Touching the Abyss
by Arella1
Summary: Sirius stumbles upon something that ask questions Hermione would rather not answer. After the War and all the hurt, can two people find a happiness neither one is sure they deserve?


**AN: **This is a oneshot I've had sitting on my computer for a long time. I've got a severe case of writer's block right now, so I figured I'd post this while I'm waiting on my muse to wake up. Cheers!

* * *

"What's this?"

Hermione looked up from her book and arched a brow at Sirius in question. Frowning, the man took two long strides and stopped in front of her chair, shoving a piece of paper in her face.

"I said, 'What's this'?"

However, Hermione wasn't listening and Sirius noted that her face had paled several shades. In a move that startled him, her hand shot out swifter than lightening and snatched the paper from him. On her feet in seconds, Hermione glared fiercely at Sirius in a mixture of betrayal, a touch of fear, and a healthy dose of humiliation.

Taking a deep breath, the twenty five year old woman tried to calm herself by remembering that she was a guest in Sirius' home. Also, he'd only recently been rescued from the Veil, although, no worse for wear. When that didn't work, Hermione reminded herself that the other occupants of Number 12 Grimmauld Place would certainly take offense to her waking them in the middle of the night with the struggle that would ensue if she killed Sirius. Harry, in particular, would be outstandingly put out to lose his Godfather _again_.

Her composure suitably reinstated, Hermione narrowed her eyes at Sirius and hissed in a voice that had made more than one Death Eater piss himself, "Where did you get this, Sirius?"

Taken aback, Sirius' brows rose in confusion. "I was moving some files off the table in the library and it fell out. What is it?"

Flopping back into her comfortable chair by the fire, Hermione closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's a song I wrote back in sixth year. Just after…just after you…_fell_."

Taking a seat adjacent to her, Sirius studied her closely. "You wrote that? For me?"

Sighing, Hermione dropped her hand and looked at him. "It was a particularly bad year. I wrote a lot of depressing stuff. I guess I just never expected anyone to find it."

Leaning forward, Sirius glanced at the music on the page. "That's, what, piano? Can you play?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione nodded. "No, I'm simply so smart, I can scribble a few notes on the page and it will inevitably turn out wonderful. Having absolutely no prior knowledge of the instrument, of course."

Sirius arched his brow in something like amusement. "Ah, that time of the month, I see."

The book Hermione had been holding was in the air and flying at his face before either one knew what was happening. Fear for one's life, however, lends one reflexes one did not previously command. This was the case with Sirius as he dove from the couch to the floor, prostrating himself before Hermione as the book slammed into the back of the couch. A stunned silence settled over the two before Hermione erupted into peals of laughter and Sirius extracted himself from the floor.

"Oh, Sirius, I'm sorry, it was a reflex," she giggled out as sincerely as she could. "Are you all right?"

Grimacing, Sirius nodded before glaring at her. "Has anyone ever told you that you're quite prone to mood swings? You are. Brilliantly violent swings that wreak chaos and confusion everywhere."

Chuckling, Hermione shrugged innocently and retrieved her book. "Has anyone ever told you that you like the sound of your own voice entirely too much? Sometimes I'm afraid your ego will swell and suck all the air from the room."

Sirius shot her a sly look and shook his head as she cracked open her reading material and made to return to the pages. "And _you_ are almost on par with Moony when it comes to avoiding a subject. Well played, Miss Granger, but I want to know about the song. Will you play it for me?"

Startled, Hermione looked at him in bewilderment. "I don't, I mean…that is, I've never really played for someone other than my parents. And, I don't sing well, at all…honestly, you don't want me to."

Sirius stood and then pulled her to her feet, laying the book on the coffee table. "I want to hear it, Hermione. No one's ever written a song for me before. As you said, my ego is somewhat swelled even as I am eaten up with curiosity."

Resignation settled across her face as she allowed Sirius to lead her to the music room. Bothersome git. He could be almost as stubborn as she, sometimes, and it was easier to give in this once.

After entering the music room, Sirius closed the door and placed a silencing charm over it so as to not wake the sleeping visitors. Sighing yet again, Hermione moved to the baby grand piano and took her seat at it. Settling the music in front of her, she glanced to her audience and found him adamantly watching her from a chair he'd pulled over.

Steeling herself, she raised her hands to the keys.

"This is _Sirius' Song_."

Sirius was lost in the haunting melody as Hermione finished playing the last few notes. It was unnerving how she'd captured him, how he'd felt all those years ago. The sadness draped over the song clung even to the small bit of hope she'd tried to infuse into it. The tightness in his chest clenched and his face grew pained at the thought of what he'd left behind.

"Sirius?" she called hesitantly.

Raising cobalt blue eyes, he met her own cinnamon ones and offered a faint smile. "Perfect, Hermione. Thank you."

The depth of her _feeling_ in the song was staggering. He hadn't realized she'd cared that much.

"I hadn't realized…out of the three, I had assumed you would be least affected by me falling."

Hermione smiled bitterly and slid the piano lid over the keys, not looking at him. "Yes, well, perhaps I was. The months afterwards are kind of a blur, what with Harry's depression, Ron's trauma, and the treatments. I try not to think too much about that time."

Sirius, however, had caught something in her sentence. "What treatments?"

Leaning forward, Hermione put her head in her hands and rubbed her eyes. "I really must be tired if I'm being that careless," she mumbled. Rolling her head over until one hand propped it up, she looked at Sirius. "Surely you've been told about what happened with Dolohov?"

Furrowing his brow, Sirius nodded. "He hit you with a curse."

Hermione nodded wearily. "You have to swear you won't tell anybody this, Sirius. Especially not Harry or Ron." Straightening, she fixed him with a look of authority. "Swear a Marauder's Oath."

Blinking at the fierceness in her tone, Sirius nodded. "I swear a swear, binding and strong, to speak not a word lifelong. To break this vow, mortal pain provoke. I swear it now, the Marauder's Oath."

It was childish, really, but Hermione knew Sirius would face death and not break the Marauder's Oath. Taking a fortifying breath, she nodded once more.

"I was dying, Sirius. They didn't know what the curse was that Dolohov cast and thus, didn't have a cure. The entirety of my sixth year I had to undergo vast tests and experiments to try and find something out. By the time we were packing to go home that year, I could barely walk to my classes by myself. It wasn't until Bill Weasley mentioned something in passing at one of the Order meetings, I'm told, that Dumbledore hit upon a cure. In the end, Poppy, Minerva, Albus, and Bill are the only ones who know exactly what happened."

Sirius was starring at her in horror. "You mean to tell me that you were wasting away in front of them-_dying_-and neither Ron nor Harry noticed anything?"

Hermione frowned at him and shook her head. "They noticed a bit, here and there, but you have to understand exactly what was happening that year, Sirius. You were dead, Harry's light had all but been snuffed out, Ron was becoming as paranoid as Moody, and Voldemort was hanging over us like smog. It was a burden just to get out of bed in the morning, much less notice the cross other people were carrying. And, I didn't _want_ them to know, Sirius. So, they didn't. It wouldn't have done them or me any good."

Face darkening, Sirius grabbed her hand. "I won't tell them, as I swore, Hermione, but you should. If it had been James or Remus, I would have wanted to know. Remus doesn't know about it?"

Shrugging, Hermione looked away. "I think he knows more about it than he lets on, but, no, I doubt he knows the severity of it. It doesn't matter, now. I'm better and you're alive, Voldemort's dead…I just want to move on."

Reaching out, Sirius took the music from the piano. "You…you didn't see me fall, did you?"

Hermione averted her eyes. "No, but I _heard_ you, Sirius. I could feel you leave us. It was quite frightening, I must say. Especially since you and I had never been particularly close. Personalities just clash, I suppose." Waving off his attempt at denial, she gave a wan smile. "It's true, you know it is. Then, you were a freaking jackass when I was trying to pull you back. Merlin, I thought it would never work."

Sirius was momentarily confused, his rescue having never really been explained. "What?"

Shifting, Hermione bit her lower lip, pondering over how much she should tell. Reviewing the facts, she decided that she was tired of keeping secrets and if Dumbledore had a problem with it, he could go suck a lemon drop. Sometimes, you just don't have it in you to pretend.

"I've been working on a way to bring you back since seventh. I'd hear voices when I slept, coming from behind the Veil. When I started going to the DoM, sometimes there would be faces pushing against the Veil. I saw you occasionally. It scared the shite out of me, I can tell you that. I began devising a spell that would allow me to contact the other side and possibly lead a person back. However, you, like the absolute arse you are, would only laugh and try to chat me up every time I managed to find you. I finally had to mentally yank you by your ear and throw you out of the Veil. That's why I was unconscious when you emerged, it took nearly every ounce of magic in me to do it."

The ex-convict gaped at her. "I tried to chat you up? I don't remember anything from the other side, save for occasionally seeing a light."

Hermione swatted him in the back of his head. "That was me, idiot."

Rubbing his injury, Sirius looked thoughtful. "Well, that's odd. How many other people did you pull out?"

Hermione fidgeted and shook her head. "No one else. I'll teach the spell to someone else, but I am never going back into that abyss." Meeting his eyes, she smiled bitterly. "I'm glad you don't remember it, Sirius."

"But, you do."

"Yes."

Studying her, he was compelled to ask, "Was it worth it?"

Hermione smiled, "Yes, of course it was. We've missed you terribly, Sirius. And I…I couldn't let you hang suspended there. You wouldn't have died on the other side, but you wouldn't have lived either. You would just…be, without any consciousness. You didn't deserve that." Looking away, she continued, "And, I didn't want you to meet anyone else in there."

Sirius blinked in confusion. "Come again?"

Exasperated, Hermione leveled him with a look she usually reserved for Ron when he was being particularly dense. "Honestly, Sirius! What was the Veil originally used for? For punishing the worst criminals. Who do you think you were sharing the Void with? The worst of society was in there with you, Sirius. If they had woken and found you, there's no way of knowing what would happen. Especially, if you remained asleep."

"Oh," he replied, feeling something foreign in his chest. "Wait, how do you know some of them were awake?"

A mask dropped over her face as her eyes hardened. "I told you, part of me had to go in there and find you. It took me a while."

Fear gripped him as the implication of her statement hit him head on. Reaching out, he gripped her upper arms tightly. "What happened, Hermione? Tell me the truth," he said, with a shake. "Tell me what happened in there."

Lips thinning, Hermione scrambled out of his grip and stood, glaring at him. "It's none of your business, Sirius! Leave it alone."

On his feet in an instant, Sirius growled at her. "Like Hell, I will, Hermione! You went to the other side to save me and I want to know what the Void did to you!"

Hermione backed up to a wall and stood defiantly, arms crossed over her chest and chin up in determination. "It doesn't matter what happened in there! I'm fine, you're fine, leave it at that!"

"Something happened in the Void, Hermione. I'm not as smart as you, but I'm not stupid. I want to know what the Void did and I want to know now, or I'm going to Harry and Ron and telling them. We'll see if they can drag it out of you."

Opening her mouth, Hermione found that she could say nothing against that, as Sirius was entirely serious. Upon realizing that he was not above making good on his threats, Hermione's face turned dark and stony.

"You bastard, you absolutely horrid bastard. You've no right to ask me this." Sliding down the wall, Hermione's face crumbled. "You can't make me go back there," she whispered to herself as she drew her knees up and hugged them to her chest.

To Sirius, she looked very much like the teenager he'd first met, all those years ago. Gone was the brave woman whose intelligence had helped destroy one of the most powerful wizards in history. In her place was a vulnerable female he'd always known she possessed, but had never witnessed.

He wondered momentarily if all women possessed this same unguarded frailty. Perhaps it was this softness that made men devote themselves to one woman's protection, happiness. Knowing that she could stand alone, but not wanting her to. Wanting to guard her against the outside world so that she could be vulnerable sometimes. So that she could let her walls, defenses, down.

Hesitantly, Sirius slid down beside her and drew her into his embrace. She had taken the brunt of the Void meant for him. No words came. How could he comfort her, when he, himself, was denied that luxury?

"It was so cold there," she finally whispered after a great while. "That's what I remember the most-the iciness mixed in with the absolute darkness. The first few months, I couldn't do anything but just get there. I couldn't move anywhere. All that existed was just _cold_."

Shifting, Sirius raised his hand and began stroking her hair to calm her. "How did you get there?"

"It's something like an astral projection, only my mind was physically there. I could touch things, not just see."

"Ah, that must have taken some time to figure out."

Hermione nodded against him. "Sometimes, when I was there and trying to move, but knowing I wasn't, I would forget myself. I couldn't see, hear, smell, or taste _anything_. All I could feel was the cold. Then, one day, something or someone knocked into me, and suddenly, I could move. That was the first time I found you. You weren't really aware of what was going on, and when I tried to get you to move, you started flirting with me."

Looking up, Hermione grinned at him. "Apparently, you had the insane notion that I was an angel. Some of your pick up lines are in desperate need of revamping, by the way. They were extremely cheesy."

Sirius laughed at that. "Thanks so much, I'll remember that the next time I'm at the pub."

Sobering, Hermione's eyes focused on something he couldn't see. "The first few weeks went by like that. I'd find you and try to convince you to make the effort to move. Then, one day, something found me before I could find you." Hermione shuddered. "The spell I cast had to make my projection as realistic as possible. If I had died in the Veil, I would have died in real time, too."

Sirius felt dread sinking into him at where this was leading.

"Whatever found me…he just kept…I couldn't, couldn't make him_ stop_." She was crying steadily, now, still trying to make him understand what had happened. "I don't even know how long I was in there, only that, when I finally got back, it was a very long while before I could go through the Veil again."

"What did he do, Hermione?"

A strangled sob tore through her throat. "What do most evil men do when they find a girl alone?"

"Shite, Hermione, did you tell anyone?" Sirius exclaimed, hugging her tighter to him as he felt the shivers and sobs wrack her body.

She shook her head furiously, spraying teardrops.

"Why not?"

"Because they would have made me stop!" Realizing she'd lost control, Hermione said in a quieter voice, "They would have made me stop and left you there."

He could say nothing to that, only feel the ever-present guilt in him rise up and grow at what Hermione had suffered because of him. Looking at his life, Sirius wondered vaguely if he'd ever done anyone any good or made any kind of right decision. It seemed as if he'd only lived regrets.

"So," he finally said softly, "you came back and pulled me out."

Sniffling, Hermione nodded. "Yanked you up by your ear and hurled you out, is more like it. You're a very stubborn man."

Sirius smiled ruefully. "So I'm told. Hermione, why did you get me out?"

Hermione looked up at him in confusion. "What do you mean? How could I not at least try?"

"There are plenty of people you could have gotten to do that spell besides you. Trained Unspeakables. Why?"

Wiping her eyes, Hermione suddenly felt very exposed. "Harry was lost without you. Remus was very nearly the same, not being able to deal with the loss of his last real friend. I just couldn't sit by and not try everything I could to bring you back. You're a good man, Sirius. You didn't deserve that. A good portion of your life has been made up of things you don't deserve."

Reaching out, Sirius gently brushed the remaining tears off of her face. "Why, Hermione?"

"Because I couldn't bear how I'd treated you!" she spat heatedly, shifting gears. "Because I was horrible to you and acted like a spoilt child when you most definitely did not deserve it! Because…just because."

Stunned, Sirius could only stare at her momentarily. It was true, they'd clashed over more than a few things back then, but not where it mattered. They'd both wanted Harry safe. They'd both wanted Voldemort dead. The details were all but moot.

"You seem to remember things a tad bit worse than they really were, Hermione. I never thought you were acting spoilt. Perhaps a bit bossy and a little arrogant with your intelligence, but I knew your heart was in the right place. Most of the time, you were right, too. I was just a shade closer to insanity than I'd like to admit, back then."

Closing her eyes once more, Hermione rested her head on his shoulder, unwilling to break the easy camaraderie that had suddenly sprung up between them. The old grandfather clock in the hall chimed three times, alerting them to the late hour.

"It's late," Hermione mumbled, not moving.

She felt, rather than saw, Sirius smile.

"It's early," he corrected with humor.

Cracking one eye open, Hermione allowed herself a moment to study the enigmatic man beside her. Save for that one trip on Buckbeak, she'd never been this close to him.

"You need to shave," she commented rather before she'd thought. Blushing, she glanced away, wondering at her amazing ability for idiocy.

Sirius chuckled and ran his free hand over his beard. "You think so? Don't like the beard?"

Biting her lip, Hermione shook her head. "I'm not a big fan of facial hair. It makes you look older than you should."

"Far be it for me to disappoint the lady. I guess I'll take care of it tomorrow."

Cocking her head to the side, the woman beside him looked at him in curiosity. "I do know a good shaving spell, if you like."

Sirius shook his head. "No, thanks. For a good shave, you have to do it the non-magical way. Nothing like a good shave."

Hesitating only slightly, Hermione offered, "I could do it for you. Mum taught me to shave on Dad."

After a moment of surprise, Sirius stared at Hermione and then nodded. Grinning, she drew her wand and opened the door to the room.

"Accio Hermione's shaving kit."

The small bag flew into the room and into her hands before she shut the door and replaced the silencing charm. Turning to Sirius, she motioned for him to take a seat in his previously vacated chair. As he did so, Hermione unpacked her things. Leaning back, Sirius watched as she sharpened her straight edge on a strip of leather.

Swallowing, Sirius forced himself to be still. It was a giant leap for him to allow someone to do this for him. After all, one slip and you'd nearly be decapitated. But, it was Hermione and she'd cut herself before she willingly cut him.

Taking a breath, Hermione smeared the shaving cream on his face with the brush. Grinning, she finished applying the cream by plopping a dollop pertly on the tip of his nose. Sirius scowled at her, but ruined it a moment later by an inordinately large sneeze. Hermione giggled and wiped the shaving cream off of his nose.

"Bless you."

Rubbing his nose, Sirius looked the epitome of offended dignity. Or sullen child. Whichever. Chuckling to herself, Hermione raised the razor and began making short, precise strokes over his skin. Brow furrowing, she glided the blade carefully, seemingly helping him shed an old skin.

Sirius watched Hermione silently as he felt her cut away more than a decade's worth of shadows, of regrets. So focused, was Hermione, he mused. It was nice to know that some things hadn't changed. The warmth of her hands as she maneuvered his face seeped into him, rekindling the dying spark of _Sirius_ that he'd feared had long since been an abandoned memory.

_~Mr. Black...er…Sirius?~_

She had long ago become a person to ground him. A center. Everyone else changed and ignored and _simply went away_. Hermione stayed familiar. But, she was changing-had changed-and Sirius suddenly felt very much at a loss over how to view this new Hermione. Ten years had shaped and reformed them all, but Sirius had taken everyone else in stride.

Harry was still James's son. Remus was still his best friend. Ron was still Ron.

Older, now, perhaps, and with bigger lives, but still the same people, boys he knew.

Hermione, however…

Now, he _looked_ at Hermione. Sirius opened his eyes, and he _saw_.

A swift flick of her wrist and Hermione smiled in satisfaction as she wiped the excess shaving cream off of his face. "All done, Sirius. My, that did you a world of good. See?"

Procuring a mirror, Hermione offered it to him, watching as he accepted it and examine his features. Smirking, he raised twinkling blue eyes to her.

"Not bad. You're right; I could pass for my early thirties, now."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione packed up her things. "Sirius, you were only in your mid thirties when you fell. Meaning, physically, you're still that age."

Arching a brow, Sirius digested that bit of information. "Why didn't you move on, Hermione?" He asked abruptly.

Confused, Hermione turned to look at him in question.

"Harry's engage, Ron's married, Hell, even Moony is shacking up with Tonks. I expected you to be married with a litter of kids by now."

She frowned at him. "I am one of the top ranking officials at Gringotts, Sirius. I've helped create some remarkable breakthroughs in the field of medicine, charms, and defenses. Not only that, but my vault rivals the Malfoy's now, in all likely hood. So, what on earth makes you think that I haven't moved on?"

Smiling slightly, Sirius reached out and took her hand. "You haven't. You've helped everyone else, but are still stuck yourself."

Raising his gaze, he met her eyes unflinching and found his answer there. Cinnamon eyes slid away from cobalt before giving in and returning. Biting her lip, she finally drew away from him when his eyes widened in comprehension.

"I…," he trailed off for a minute. "You were fifteen."

Fidgeting with her bag, Hermione nodded. "Yes, but not then."

"When?"

A sad smile danced at the corners of her mouth, never quite making it. "A memory…a…hope, maybe."

Standing, Sirius moved until he was but a breath away from her. "Now?"

Swallowing, Hermione bowed her head, feeling her fabled Gryffindor courage abandon her. Grasping her shaving bag, Sirius took it from her nervous hands and dropped it to the chair behind him. Then, gently, he ran the back of his knuckles over her cheek in something like a ghostly gesture of affection. Clenching her eyes shut, Hermione leaned toward him a bit, licking her lips and nodding silently.

"Broken, stained, Sirius. Not dirty, but not the same," she whispered, refusing to look at him.

Cupping the sides of her face, the tall man pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. "Perhaps," he breathed.

Drawing back from his hands, Hermione finally met his eyes. His answer was lurking in the depths of blue, willing her to understand. Smiling, Hermione dropped her eyes.

"When?"

"Forever."

"That's not an answer."

Sirius smirked and said nothing as he looked down upon this impossibly precious woman. Finally, "They'll hurt you."

"And you."

As they looked back to each other, only the still piano witnessed the unspoken agreement pass between the two.

"Someday," she spoke softly-fervently.

"Someday," he agreed with the same determination.

Stepping back, away from her, Sirius smiled at her tiredly, genuinely. "Thank you, Hermione."

Picking up her discarded bag, Hermione returned his smile as they walked to the door. "You're welcome, Sirius," she answered as they parted in the hall.

* * *

There were many secrets the house of 12 Grimmauld Place had harbored over its ancient and most noble history. Some were well kept, some were not. Then, there were some that were…quiet.

The house liked the quiet secrets the best. They were the most interesting.

Like the house's favorite. It was happening now, and to the house's own master, to boot! The house very much liked its current master. He was cleaning the house so very well. He was a good man, really, despite his horrid parents. The house groaned slightly in remembrance of its previous master and mistress. It had not liked them.

Back to the secret, though. It was a quiet secret, as mentioned before, but everyone visiting the house of 12 Grimmauld Place knew it-they simply ignored it.

Sirius Black had fallen in love with Hermione Granger. The house was quite certain that one Hermione Granger reciprocated those feelings.

The problem was everyone else. The werewolf-Remus-had frowned disapprovingly for some time before the mischievous sparkle in his eyes relit. Sirius had seen and had smiled in gratitude.

"Thanks, Moony."

"Whatever for, Padfoot?"

And that was all that had been said.

The next to notice was the Weasley mother. She had said nothing, but the frost still evident in her manner spoke for her. There was nothing to reprimand, however, even as hard as she looked. No sneaking around at night or accidentally-on-purpose touches. No hidden kisses or notes.

Theirs was a quiet love, like their secret. Passion and longing do not always cause the heart to roar or the mind to dizzy. Sometimes, they burn slowly under the surface for the right moment. Merely holding tightly to the fact that the other was near. The other was not leaving.

_Stay. Wait. Someday_.

The smallest Weasley picked up on the secret after her mother. Excitement glittered in her eyes as she peppered Hermione with questions. The older girl would smile innocently, softly to the younger and change the subject by offering her some tea. Eventually, the red head gave up and contented herself with watching the two, knowing that _someday_.

A green eyed wizard with messy hair noticed then. The house liked him greatly. He was, after all, the godson of the young master. What he thought would matter a great deal. The house was disappointed when the boy scowled in suspicion and began putting his Auror mind to work.

Hitting upon an answer, the young wizard nodded to himself and pointedly began ignoring it. The frown of disapproval, however, never fully vanished.

Sighing, the house looked to the last red head. Ron. Well, eventually someone would tell him. Until then, he looked extraordinarily happy with his breakfast.

Settling down, the house of 12 Grimmauld Place wondered about the quiet secret and those involved. The young master was very careful with the future mistress. She'd been through a lot, the house knew, and had brought back more than Sirius from the Veil. The house hoped that her nightmares would stop soon.

Looking back to the master, the house sighed in resignation. It would be a while before he could help the lady with her demons. Before she could chase the shadows from his eyes, completely.

Resting, the house contented itself with the knowledge that Time would pass and people would smile again. The master and the future mistress would stay for good, then. The house shifted with excitement at that thought. It would be a home again.

_Someday._

Finite


End file.
